


The Heart of Fódlan

by DetectiveRoboRyan



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Aftercare, Begging, Dom/sub, Explicit Consent, F/F, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Naked Female Clothed Female, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Praise Kink, Semi-Public Sex, Teasing, Throne Sex, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-04
Updated: 2019-09-04
Packaged: 2020-10-09 23:13:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20518016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DetectiveRoboRyan/pseuds/DetectiveRoboRyan
Summary: Three rulers, three thrones.[Postgame, but contains virtually no spoilers.]





	The Heart of Fódlan

**Author's Note:**

> it's marianne getting railed by each of the lords on their respective thrones. that's it that's the fic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> kinks: oral, fingering, naked/clothed, dom/sub, teasing, begging, orgasm delay/denial

"Hubert."  
  
He straightens. "Your Majesty."  
  
"I will be in my throne room," Edelgard tells him. "I expect to be in there for quite some time and do not wish to be bothered. Please stand by the doors and ensure that no one attempts to enter."  
  
Hubert bows his head. "It shall be done."  
  
Edelgard nods approvingly. The throne room doors swing shut with an imposing thunk, and Edelgard is satisfied.  
  
The Imperial Throne Room (which has been a proper noun for as long as Edelgard can remember) is probably her favorite room in the palace. It's large, as it ought to be for when she may have to address large audiences, but unlike other throne rooms she'd seen, it lacks alcoves or columns or any such things. The glass skylight lets in a long swath of evening sun. When the sun goes down, enchanted sconces will light themselves, eliminating any shadowy corners. The throne itself is on a low stage, at the semicircular end of the chamber. The stone mosaic floor and the hard stone walls magnify the smallest sounds. When Edelgard sits on her throne, her back is to he apex of the semicircle, and she can see every corner of the room. And in addition to that, there's only one entrance or exit to the rest of the castle with doors too large to be silent when they open and shut. There are wards on the door that Edelgard frequently makes use of, but she stations Hubert outside anyway, when the time comes that she does not want to be disturbed.  
  
It's hardly the most comfortable of rooms to be in. Naturally, Edelgard loves it.  
  
Her heels echo on the stone as she marches forward. She unfastens her cloak from around her neck and drapes it over one corner of the back, then leans her axe against the armrest. With a short sigh, she seats herself upon it. It's padded, for comfort during long audiences, but Edelgard would hardly choose to lounge upon it in her free time— favorite room or no. So to most, it would seem odd that she chooses to lock herself inside for hours at a stretch every now and then.  
  
What they don't know is what she does inside.  
  
Marianne stands beside the throne, hands behind her back, and bows her head in deference. She's dressed in blue, as always. It makes her stand out, and she's asked if she should switch to dressing in the Empire's colors, but Edelgard doesn't want her to. She supposes she could think of it as a reminder that there is a world outside Adrestia, but mostly it's because she likes how Marianne looks in blue.  
  
"My Emperor," she says, in that soft, gentle voice that Edelgard loves. Edelgard smiles, and touches her cheek. Marianne's skin is soft beneath her, and perhaps Edelgard craves it because of the novelty. Her own is marred by scars and calluses; Edelgard doesn't have many feelings towards it one way or another, but she can't help but notice.  
  
Edelgard kisses her, slow and gentle. Marianne's presence is quiet, but it's steady and warm, and it helps Edelgard feel a little more at ease.  
  
"I missed you today," she murmurs to Marianne, taking her hand and pressing a kiss to her knuckles. "I know I saw you in the morning, but my days always feel empty when you're not by my side."  
  
"You flatter me, your Majesty," Marianne says modestly.  
  
"Say my name," she says.  
  
"Edelgard." Marianne's already-quiet voice is a soft murmur, a breath as she leans in, her hands on Edelgard's cheeks, thumbs tracing her cheekbones. She's still standing before the throne, but only just; if she leaned a little closer, she'd be on Edelgard's lap.  
  
"Marianne," Edelgard murmurs her reply. "My Empress."  
  
Marianne flushes, a smile curling her lips. "I can still barely believe it."  
  
"All the more reason for me to say it, wouldn't you agree?"  
  
And Marianne can't argue with that, not really. Edelgard reaches out, her hands resting on her waist, feeling the gentle curve of her figure under the layers of heavy silk. Edelgard's seen her bare before, and she certainly understands the desire to keep oneself covered from the neck down, but she still selfishly wishes that Marianne didn't wear so many layers.  
  
She pulls Marianne onto her lap, and Marianne complies willingly, leaning in to kiss her. Her lips are soft and pink, and warm as she breathes. Edelgard feels her smile. She cradles Marianne's head, mindful of her chignon, and presses their foreheads together. Marianne's thumb traces her cheekbone, and Edelgard almost doesn't want the moment to end.  
  
But only almost.  
  
"You must be tired," Marianne says. "Allow me to… tend to you."  
  
"Thank you," Edelgard says. Marianne pulls away, and Edelgard watches, impartial, as she sheds her layers; her gown, her petticoats, her stockings, all piling inelegantly on the throne room floor. Hunger builds in Edelgard's core, but she doesn't show it; only removes her gloves and sets them on the armrest of her throne. Marianne is down to her last layer and sliding the strap of her chemise from her pale shoulder when Edelgard stops her.  
  
"Your hair," she points out. "Will you take it down for me?"  
  
"It'll take a minute," Marianne says.  
  
"I can wait."  
  
So Marianne's hands; those soft, slender, delicate hands laced with magic scars in crystalline fractals, hands Edelgard has held and kissed more times than she can count; reach up behind her head to undo every morning's hard work. Edelgard is selfish to ask her this, but she's no fool, and knows that Marianne only complies because there's a private stairway to the Emperor's chambers just off the throne room.  
  
She pulls out the last of a small army of pins and lets Edelgard push her ungloved fingers through, working loose the wispy strands from their confines. It'll be a mess again when they're finished. For all the trouble it is, Edelgard often wonders why she keeps it so long, why she does it every morning only to take it down at night and repeat the cycle, but Marianne has never once complained. She says it's a ritual, at this point; even if she gets nothing else of note done, at least she can look in a mirror and see visual proof she did something. Edelgard supposes she understands.  
  
Edelgard kisses her, letting the strands of Marianne's hair wrap around her fingers and keep her trapped there, cradling the back of her head. Marianne sighs, warm breath on Edelgard's skin. Edelgard's free hand comes to her waist, then up, around to her back, idly thumbing the lace trim.  
  
"May I?" Edelgard murmurs. Marianne nods.  
  
This is Edelgard's favorite part (though she would be lying if she said she disliked anything else). She leans in, pressing her lips to Marianne's chin, her neck, her throat. Her thumb takes its time, running along the trim until it reaches the strap, and then pulls it down. Marianne pulls her arm through, and Edelgard kisses the bare shoulder it reveals. Edelgard notes with satisfaction the faded pinkish marks from last night— silly of her, she knows, but she loves leaving reminders of her presence upon Marianne's skin. Some leave marks to show off for others— Edelgard thinks she has more taste than that. She doesn't need anyone _else_ to see the evidence of their lovemaking to feel secure. She already knows that Marianne is hers.  
  
She pulls the other strap down. The chemise drops to pool below her waist. Gooseflesh rises on her skin, and she shivers. Edelgard rubs her hand over the naked curve of her back, a silent promise that she'll be warm soon.  
  
She holds Marianne by the waist with one hand while the other comes up to cup one of her breasts, a thumb brushing across her nipple. It's heavy in her hand, the flesh pushing through the spaces between her fingers. Stretch marks run through in little white streaks. Marianne reaches for the other, but Edelgard takes her wrist before she can.  
  
"Don't," she murmurs, reveling in how Marianne shivers when she squeezes, just enough for her to feel it. "I'll take care of everything."  
  
Marianne can only nod, biting at her lip and finding her grasp in the front of Edelgard's jacket. "Thank you," she gasps out. "My Emperor."  
  
_Emperor_. She was raised and schooled for the title, and yet it thrills her to hear it from Marianne's mouth, almost as much as it thrills her to hear the sounds of pleasure she draws forth. Perhaps it's the context of the debauchery taking place upon her throne, and the anticipation of what's to come.  
  
Edelgard's free hand moves down below where her chemise pools to cup the flesh of Marianne's rear, which gives generously beneath her hand. Edelgard feels Marianne's heat from where she's straddling her thigh. She's trembling, but this time, it's not from the chill of the throne room— she's restraining herself, gripping Edelgard's jacket to keep herself still.  
  
Edelgard smiles, and kisses her neck. "Do you want me so badly already?" she teases gently. "Did stripping for me really excite you that much?"  
  
She squeezes, and notes how Marianne shivers, but she doesn't cave to her desire to rub herself across Edelgard's thigh. "Yes," she whimpers. "I want you to touch me. Please?"  
  
Edelgard hums, moving back around to her front, down to her folds. She's wet, and probably making a spot on Edelgard's leggings. Edelgard can feel her pulse when she teases her folds with one finger. "You're being so patient," she coos. Marianne stifles a moan. "What a good girl."  
  
Marianne's breath hitches. Edelgard leans in and kisses her neck, finding a spot to nip with her teeth. She's gentle, but Marianne cries out, halfway between a whimper and a moan. She does it again, again, and Marianne lets out a whine. "Please," she whimpers, sounding close to tears. "E-Edelgard…"  
  
"I'll touch you for real, I promise," Edelgard says. Marianne sighs in relief, only to whine again when Edelgard bites down again, nursing that one particular spot while pulling her fingers from Marianne's wet folds.  
  
Edelgard smiles, kissing the hollow of her throat. "But you know what comes first. Come— I've had a long day. Earn your reward."  
  
Marianne swallows, and nods. She pulls back, pulling herself from Edelgard's lap. She lets the chemise fall away, leaving her naked in the throne room, hair spilling down over her shoulders and down her back. She kneels between Edelgard's legs, and Edelgard reaches forward to wipe the tear from the corner of her eye.  
  
Edelgard herself is unarmored, but fully clothed— this is by design. Marianne waits, eager but restrained, for Edelgard to pull down her leggings and settle back down on the throne. She kneels between Edelgard's legs, looking up at her, silently waiting for permission to begin.  
  
"Good girl," Edelgard murmurs, pushing her hand into Marianne's hair. She keeps her grasp loose— enough to tug, but not to hurt. Never to hurt. Edelgard can make her beg for release until she cries, but she would never forgive herself if she hurt Marianne. So she's gentle as she pulls Marianne closer, pushing up the hem of her tunic so she can see her Empress's face.  
  
"Remember what I said," she says. "No touching."  
  
Marianne nods. Edelgard leans down and kisses her head. "Now, begin."  
  
She begins in earnest, just the way Edelgard likes it, learned from countless nights just like this one. Edelgard's breath hitches as Marianne runs her tongue through her folds, finding her clit buried among them. Her lips and tongue are hot and damp around Edelgard. Edelgard lets her moans fall from her lips— Marianne has earned them, and it only encourages her.  
  
"Oh, Marianne," Edelgard moans. Blood rushes in her ears, blocking out the sounds of her own pleasure that echo around the throne room. She pushes her other hand through Marianne's hair. Marianne looks up at her, waiting for approval, and Edelgard would be foolish to deny her.  
  
She smiles breathlessly. "Good girl," she says. "Just like that. Just like that."  
  
_Good girl_. She feels Marianne moan and shiver, no doubt sopping wet and aching at being denied permission to chase her own pleasure. It's as much the thought of Marianne, wet and worked up and desperate, as it is the physical act that really gets Edelgard going. And not only that, Edelgard finds something thrilling about all of this— about Marianne, Empress of Adrestia and a noblewoman in her own right even before their marriage, naked, on her knees before the throne, getting off on being denied her own pleasure before Edelgard gets hers. Edelgard would call it the subversion of the expectations of nobility, symbolizing her ultimate goal of eliminating noble status entirely, if asked to put into words what she liked so much about it. (To which Dorothea would say she's overthinking it, which is fair, and that she doesn't have to try and poetically justify a kink.)  
  
Edelgard's free hand grips the armrest of her throne, feeling pleasure run up her spine. She breathes heavily, the throne room filling with Edelgard's pleasured gasps and the wet, undignified smacking of Marianne's tongue on her inner folds. The world has shrunk to the two of them and to Marianne, Marianne drawing the moans from her lips that Edelgard makes only for her; Marianne tasting Edelgard on her lips and knowing that she is the only one allowed to know her as she does. She is Marianne's as much as Marianne is hers, and it's moments like this where Edelgard is reminded.  
  
She is Marianne's as much as Marianne is hers. Edelgard comes to her tongue and thrills in the knowledge that it's only Marianne who can give her this.  
  
Edelgard leans back on her throne, her breathing heavy. She gently pulls Marianne's head out from between her legs, and it's Marianne she sees when the stars fade from her eyes. Marianne, with Edelgard on her lips and dripping down her chin, looking up and waiting, hoping for approval; _needing_ it, needing it with the same intensity as the physical need to get off.  
  
She's a beautiful sight. Edelgard lets a smile trace her features as she leans forward, swiping her juices from Marianne's lip with her thumb.  
  
"You did wonderfully," she promises, cupping Marianne's cheek. "My Empress."  
  
"Edelgard," Marianne says, her smile gentle and adoring. Edelgard beckons her up and pulls her into her lap again, presses a kiss to her lips, presses their foreheads together. It'd be a sweet, tender moment if Edelgard weren't coming down from her climax, and if Marianne weren't naked and on her lap.  
  
"I believe," Edelgard murmurs, kissing just below Marianne's ear. "That you're owed a reward."  
  
Marianne bites her lip. "Please," she says. "Please, _please_, touch me, Ede— my Emperor."  
  
Edelgard chuckles. She kisses Marianne's neck, tracing a hand down her figure until it brushes her folds. It pleases her to see Marianne's still wet. "How is this?"  
  
"Yes," Marianne gasps. "More, please—"  
  
"Patience," Edelgard chides, teasing Marianne's clit. "And remember, no touching."  
  
Marianne whines, but she bites her lip and nods. She doesn't say it, but Edelgard knows she's promising to do what Edelgard says, to be a good girl— she doesn't need to say it for Edelgard to know. And she's doing well, and Edelgard fully intends to give her what she asks for...  
  
But not right away.  
  
Edelgard takes her time. She draws out Marianne's whimpers and whines, sinks her finger inside and rubs her inner walls and then pulls it back out, holding Marianne's pleasure teasingly just out of reach. Marianne bites hard on her lip, her back arching, pressing her head back not out of a desire to be free but an inability to keep herself still. But she doesn't touch, and for that, she deserves to be praised.  
  
"You're being so patient," Edelgard murmurs, kissing her neck. She pushes her finger into Marianne's heat, teasing her clit with her thumb. "Not touching at all, even though I know you want to. Am I correct, Marianne?"  
  
"Ah—" Marianne breathes. "Yes— oh, goddess, _Edelgard_—"  
  
"Tell me," Edelgard says, nipping at her neck. "Let me hear your pretty voice."  
  
Marianne swallows, trying to get her words together. Edelgard doesn't slow down. "E-Edelgard," she moans. "P-please, please, harder, I— I _need_ it…"  
  
"You want more?" Edelgard slows, just enough that Marianne squirms and whines.  
  
"Please," Marianne begs. "Please, please, _Edelgard_—"  
  
Edelgard chuckles. "Asking so nicely," she marvels. "Good girl." She sees Marianne smile in relief, her shoulders relaxing— and then she pushes her second finger inside, slowly ramping up the intensity.  
  
Marianne moans, sounds of pure ecstacy falling from her lips. She shapes Edelgard's name like a prayer, like a plea. Her moans are music to Edelgard's ears— impossible for them not to be, when Edelgard knows that they're sounds of raw pleasure, when Edelgard provided them, when Edelgard is the only person for whom Marianne will do this for. She supposes there's an element of possessiveness to it. Maybe she just likes the thought of being special to someone— the thought of being as special to someone as they are to her.  
  
"E-Edelgard," Marianne pants. "I'm… I'm gonna…"  
  
"I can tell you're close," Edelgard purrs. "How about you beg me for it?"  
  
Marianne whines. "Edelgard, please," she says. "Please… ah— _fuck_—"  
  
Marianne doesn't swear often. Edelgard considers it an accomplishment whenever she hears the profane coming from those sweet, soft lips.  
  
"Just like that," Edelgard coos. "Good girl."  
  
She whimpers. To Edelgard's satisfaciton, it's _good girl_ that pushes her over the edge. She swears under her breath, and then her voice breaks into a moan, long and unashamed, uneven in its pitch and timbre as the waves of her climax roll through her, as she shivers, shivers until it's done.  
  
She slumps back, but Edelgard is there to catch her, hoping she's as warm and forgiving as she deserves. Edelgard removes her fingers and kisses her, kisses away the tears in her eyes, the tremor in her lip.  
  
"You did so well," she murmurs. "My Empress. My love."  
  
Marianne smiles, her head still spinning. "Thank you," she mumbles.  
  
"I love you," Edelgard says. "How are you feeling?"  
  
"Tired," Marianne hums. "A little cold."  
  
Edelgard chuckles, taking her cloak from where it was draped on the throne and covering Marianne with it. Marianne buries her face in the fur trim. She looks like she's content to go right to sleep like that, curled up in Edelgard's lap, but she deserves better than that. Edelgard fixes her leggings, then picks her up as easily as hefting her axe.  
  
"Come on, my Empress," she says. "You've earned your rest."  
  
"Mm." Marianne leans up and kisses her neck. "I love you."  
  
"I love you, too." Edelgard gathers up Marianne's clothes and starts up the side stairway. She doesn't think of anything else until she's halfway up.  
  
"Oh," she realizes. "I suppose I should tell Hubert he can go now."  
  
"That would be the nice thing to do," Marianne murmurs sleepily.  
  
Edelgard nods. "Later, though. After I tend to you. Hubert can wait."

**Author's Note:**

> Marianne Gets Railed !!
> 
> find me on my public twitter @detectiveryanz. you can also find me on my nsfw twitter, @ryman69man which is where i put horny stuff as well as some trans stuff and the occasional vent or tmi post. 18+ only, obviously.


End file.
